


when i see you again

by ascience



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Angst, FC Bayern München, German National Team, M/M, Real Madrid CF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascience/pseuds/ascience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toni looks at the palm of his hand, as if trying to find an inked cheat sheet there for all the answers he’s supposed to give to someone that he’s never kissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when i see you again

Toni doesn’t watch the DFB Cup semifinal.

He catches a lot less of the Bundesliga in general, which is hardly surprising, but he’s still interested and most of all he’s still a good brother, and at least turns on the TV for recaps of Werder Bremen’s matches.

Toni doesn’t watch the DFB Cup semifinal _live_.

Not because he has something better to do. Not because he doesn’t care anymore. Because cold turkey has been working well for him so far and home is not where it used to be.

Hang on, rewind.  
Toni is not a man of missed chances, and he likes to believe that his past with Mario doesn’t ruin that track record. A few shy glances don’t make the love of your life.

When he watches Mario missing his penalty in a shaky video online, he feels – empty? Only god knows whether that’s a good sign or bad one.

Bayern loses their chance at the triple, which leaves them with a shot at the Champions League. And well, Toni is awfully good at predicting match scores and he’s awfully good at realising that a Real/Bayern Champions League final is possible. Some might say desirable, but either way, entirely too possible to Toni’s liking.

While the back of his mind is involuntarily running on numbers, statistics, chances, Toni thinks about calling Mario.

Mario? Who else. Honestly.

For a split second, Toni feels an imaginary pull towards his phone by millimetres, as if his body has just been waiting for the signal.

The phone rings before Toni can touch it, and against all reason, he is almost ready to believe that he’s turned it on with his mind. He takes the call without checking the caller ID and inhales sharply when he’s greeted by a familiar voice.

“Toni, hey,” Mario says, and Toni can paint a picture just from those two words. Mario, sitting on his couch, holding his iPhone at a weird angle to his face, drawing circles into the expensive fluffy carpet with the toe of his white nikes.

“Hey,” Toni responds. “It’s been some time.”

The truth – what else is there to say?

Mario laughs and it’s as contagious as ever. Toni forces the chuckles that well up his throat into coughs.

“Just wanted to check how you’re doing.” Mario says, as Toni fights against the deep-rooted instinct to call out, ‘I’m sorry about your penalty.’

Toni thinks about Madrid, about Real, about Iker and the rest of the team, about wearing white and doesn’t bite back the inevitable smile.

“Great as can be, Mario, thanks,” he answers. “You?”

“Yeah, same here. I’m good.”

Maybe, maybe Mario only seems that exhausted because of the tinny echo of the telephone line.

There’s a long moment of no words said and Toni remembers why the two of them mostly stopped doing the whole phone thing in the first place. They were never really good at it, perhaps because Toni was desperately trying to keep himself at distance from something he could never have.

Toni breaks the silence with the question, "You think you can win against Barcelona?" which is horrible, but impersonal enough to keep breathing.

Briefly, the answer Toni gets is the static of the phone, then Mario snorts.

It could be an offended sound or a tired one, Toni can’t tell. The only thing he knows is that he used to be much better at reading Mario.

“Do you really want to hear it?” Mario asks, genuine.

“Yeah, I do.” Toni answers, less so.

"I guess? I mean, yeah, but we have a lot of injuries and now Robert and I think maybe, " Mario stops in the middle of the sentence. Toni knows that Mario has realised that Toni doesn’t really want to hear any of it.

“Yes. Yeah, a least we got Thiago back,” Mario finishes throatily and the name _Thiago_ sounds more like a smile than a word.

It doesn’t sting. But it itches.

Toni looks at the palm of his hand, as if trying to find an inked cheat sheet there for all the answers he’s supposed to give to someone that he’s never kissed.

He’s got a thousand questions on his mind, all about the possibilities of them meeting in the final in Berlin, but, considering Mario is the one called him, Toni guesses Mario is looking for the very same answers.

“This is just fucking typical, you know?” Mario says out of the blue. The way he pronounces it, even the swear word sounds soft and nostalgic.

As a matter of fact, Toni _doesn‘t_ know, but Mario’s voice rings true with the sound of – oh, fuck it – missed chances.

“It’s fine,” Toni answers and turns the palm of his hand downward.

Mario laughs again, but this time Toni lets a crooked smile steal on his lips.

“I have to go,” Mario says, which leaves Toni unsure about how long they’ve been on the phone. “But I know Berlin would love to have you here.”

“Here,” Toni repeats, at a loss for words.

“I know I would,” Mario says sincerely and Toni wishes he hadn’t.

“There’s still Cologne.”

“There’s always another match.”

Toni nods although Mario can’t see his motion.

There’s always another match. Always another winner.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt Katie gave me. Mostly to fight writer's block, but I had to post it before it's not relevant anymore.
> 
> In other news, this is very melodramatic, and graduation is wrecking me.
> 
> I'm on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/anexactscience) and [here](https://twitter.com/kissthecrest).


End file.
